


Daichi’s Angry Dick and the Googly Eyes of Doom (Something Like a Beef Party)

by ryekamasaki



Series: Daichi's Dick Adventures [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Masturbation in Shower, Multi, Possibly inappropriate use of googly eyes, Revenge, Suga being the best friend ever, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 16:16:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7179665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryekamasaki/pseuds/ryekamasaki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: “Life is a lot better when you put things on your head.” Bokuto & whoever else you want involved.</p>
<p>In which Daichi is unfairly tortured and decides to turn the tables.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daichi’s Angry Dick and the Googly Eyes of Doom (Something Like a Beef Party)

**Author's Note:**

> Part one of mine and Ezzy's Daichi's Dick Adventures series.
> 
> This fic was affectionately referred to throughout it's progress as the googly eye butt moaning like a whore Daichi fic, and as advertised, contains googly eyes and Daichi moaning like a whore. Based on a prompt from Ezzy: 
> 
> Prompt: “Life is a lot better when you put things on your head.” Bokuto & whoever else you want involved.

Wandering into his apartment on the afternoon of a moderately hot day leaves Daichi just a little baffled. Coming into weird situations is actually something he’s fairly used to at this point, since at least one of his roommate-slash-boyfriends is always being kind of eccentric. Today, he’s just confused.

“Kou?” Daichi questions, pausing in his route to the giant comfy couch that takes up a good chunk of their living room to gaze at the man perched on the floor in front of it. The man in question looks much like he does every summer day, gym shorts and tank top showing off as much skin as possible, only this time his head is encased in a knitted hat. A knitted hat that looks like an owl.

The only answer he gets is a distracted hum, Bokuto more focused on the puzzle half laid out on the floor between his spread legs, unmatched pieces in two fairly neat piles to the side of one leg. Daichi watches as Bokuto sticks his tongue out of the corner of his mouth a little further, tilts his head to the side as he tries another piece. The googly eyes of the owl shift as he moves, makes it seem like it’s staring straight at Daichi.

It’s staring into his soul, he can feel it. Between Bokuto’s uncharacteristic stillness and the creepy soul staring owl hat, Daichi feels completely out of his element. He drifts slowly to the kitchen, briefly wondering if the hat’s eyes are following him or if he’s just imagining it, and when he finally steps onto the tile of the kitchen floor he hears a gruff chuckle come from the direction of the stove.

Daichi gets an eyeful of glorious tanned skin and his mouth opens to deliver the now regular lecture about how wearing clothing while cooking will protect said glorious skin. His mouth hangs open before he even gets the first syllable out, though, his brain in what must be a state of shock at the full picture before him. In front of him stands the second, though no less loved, of his two boyfriends, Iwaizumi, clad in his typical around the house outfit of gym shorts and not much else. Thankfully at the moment there is an apron added to this ensemble, something Daichi regularly has to insist on while Iwaizumi is determined to cook (which is often).

The thing that has Daichi confused and shocked is what Iwaizumi has on his head. Because out of the two of them, Iwaizumi is the least likely to fall to Bokuto’s random and nonsensical whims, yet here he stands in his shorts and an apron, holding aloft his favorite spatula, wearing a knitted hat in the shape of a frog adorned with the same creepy googly eyes as Bokuto’s owl, along with a huge grin currently directed at Daichi.

For a moment Daichi wonders if he’s somehow wandered into an alternate reality to the one he’s used to, one where Iwaizumi is the oft crazy exuberant one and Bokuto is the ever serious intellectual one. Daichi’s got no clue where he fits in this situation. He's actually not too sure he wants to know. Iwaizumi’s hat's eyes shift as he tilts his head and Daichi twitches a little in reflex. 

He doesn’t know what’s going on, but he knows at least one thing at this moment: those hats have to go. He’s not sure he’s ever seen anything that was supposed to be cute look so creepy before.

The grin on Iwaizumi’s face widens just a little bit more as he gently puts down his spatula and Daichi takes a tiny, tentative step backwards, before bumping into a wide, sturdy chest. Daichi gets the fleeting thought that he is in trouble before strong arms wrap around his waist and an eager mouth descends on his neck without so much as a hello. His eyes flutter closed at the faint scrape of teeth, a quiet sigh drifting from his lips as he relaxes back into the warm embrace. His thoughts are already drifting towards the bedroom when he feels Iwaizumi’s hands against his stomach, and for a blissful moment Daichi thinks they won’t even make it out of the kitchen.

The illusion is quickly shattered with the sensation of something being pulled over his head, and Daichi’s eyes snap open in horror at the smug expression on Iwaizumi’s face and the breathy chuckle against Daichi’s still damp throat. That feeling of horror is quickly overcome by one of pure betrayal.

Daichi takes a tiny breath before he manages to speak. “I didn’t expect this from YOU, Hajime.”

Iwaizumi just smiles and cups Daichi’s face in his hands as he leans in for a kiss. “I’ve been somewhat convinced that life is a lot better when you put things on your head.”

The scowl doesn’t really have a chance to settle on Daichi’s face before Iwaizumi is thoroughly kissing it off, the first sweet kiss giving way to the rougher more passionate ones that Daichi is familiar with from Iwaizumi. It’s intense enough that Daichi forgets about whatever knitted monstrosity Iwaizumi had pulled onto his head and gets lost in the distracting press of mouths before he feels Iwaizumi shifting off to the side. Bokuto has apparently decided that he’s done watching, because before Daichi can even open his eyes there’s another mouth against his, this one no less passionate but still softer in a way.

It could be just minutes, but it feels more like hours when Daichi finally pulls away with a gasp at the feeling of teeth on the line of his throat, an answering growl rumbling through the chest pressed against his back before the spot is soothed over with a wickedly hot tongue. Bokuto doesn’t try to capture his mouth again, just quietly sinks to his knees in front of Daichi, hands already busy pulling his waistband down to his thighs.

Daichi sighs in anticipation and slowly opens his eyes, because the sight of Bokuto on his knees, eager to please, is one of a kind. When his eyes focus in on the picture in front of him, he really wishes he hadn’t. Because while normally the picture would be a fantastic one, one that’s almost brought Daichi to his breaking point without much effort at all, today the effect is decidedly ruined by the ever creepy hat that currently stares its beady eyes into Daichi’s soul. He is ashamed to admit that this is the first time he’s ever had an issue when it came time to perform, but he also feels he can’t be blamed.

Bokuto’s eyes stare up at him, still shimmering in lust, but Daichi can’t look him in the face, not with the owl still perched on his head, tilting to the side as Bokuto moves his head. It takes Daichi a minute to realize why he feels like he’s shaking, but when he does he is absolutely pissed. Iwaizumi is laughing at him, breathless laughter that shakes his entire body where it’s pressed against his, and Daichi is done. He clenches his jaw and pulls the edge of his shorts out of Bokuto’s questioning hands and back up before he glares at them both and walks off into the bedroom.

He spends approximately five minutes fuming silently as he paces, thoughts swirling in a thousand directions, and he only notices the hat still on his head when he reaches a hand up to run through his hair. He stops short, turns slowly to look at himself in the mirror above the dresser. He looks even stupider than he could have imagined. The hat perched on his head is that of a black bird, and it has the same soul sucking googly eyes as the other two hats. In it, Daichi looks like an overly large, obnoxious five year old, the kind you want to ‘accidentally’ trip as they run past you at the park.

The hat is flung on to the top of the dresser but doesn’t stay there, instead sliding off the far edge with the force of Daichi’s throw. He still can’t believe that they thought it was something amusing. They both would have had to plan that attack beforehand, knowing that Daichi wouldn’t bend to their whims over it, and that makes Daichi madder than how stupid he looked in it. That and the fact that now he’s embarrassed at what happened after being shoved unceremoniously into a terrible hat.

Having Iwaizumi laughing at him is bad enough, especially laughing so hard he can’t breathe, but to have him laughing at the fact that Daichi couldn’t stay hard with the stupid hat in his view, so close to his dick is beyond enraging. Normally Daichi would just scowl for a while and then get over it, but this calls for a bit more effort than that. He’s still mad when he decides the best thing to do at the moment is to blow off some steam and take a shower, get rid of the sweat from the heat and his humiliation all at once.

He ignores everything during the time it takes to walk the few feet that separate the the bedroom from the bathroom, towel over his shoulder. Daichi turns the water up hot and steps in the shower with an echoing sigh. Even though it’s summer, the heat of the water feels good against his slightly sore muscles. It feels even better against his neck where the lingering feeling of teeth is amplified by the force of the shower. As his anger fades away, his body takes the chance to remind him what they were getting up to before the untimely reappearance of the hat to Daichi’s view.

He lets his mind, and hand, wander as they please. He drifts off in the thoughts of what could have been happening now in the kitchen, takes his cock in hand and strokes slowly as he stands under the spray. A moan escapes his throat after a while, and as he gets more into it, another. It's only after Daichi hears a muffled thump and a hissed curse from outside the bathroom door that he realizes how loud he’s being, the noise echoing off the tiles and walls. Daichi knows that curse, and it’s not an ‘oh shit I tripped’ kind of exclamation. That’s the kind of cursing that Iwaizumi makes when he finds something really hot, like Bokuto’s deviously dirty mouth and apparently the sound of Daichi pleasuring himself in the shower.

Daichi figures, fuck it, and doesn’t bother to try to lower his voice any as he continues. He tightens his hand a bit on his next stroke and the sound he lets out is breathy but loud, and he can hear a vague shuffling noise out in the hall that leaves him grinning into the steam. Leaning his back against the wall, tiles warmed from the heat of the shower, he continues his ministrations, alternately switching his attention between himself and what he can hear from outside. The rustling and shushing tells him that they’re both out there listening, probably standing as close to the door as they can without actually leaning on it.

He pays more attention to himself as he gets closer, but he still registers the sounds coming from the other side of the door, frantic whispering and small movements. It gets harder but he can hear them even as he gets louder, as he finishes himself off with a shout that echoes in the room and leaves his ears ringing while his body loses its tension. The water cascades down his heaving chest and swirls off down the drain while Daichi tries to convince his arms to stop being boneless and grab the soap so he can actually get clean and get out.

It takes him another fifteen minutes but eventually he gets himself washed and out from under the cooling spray of the showerhead. He slings his towel around his waist and smiles as he hears the sound of the other two scattering away from the door at the silence from within the bathroom. By the time he walks out, still with water sliding off his shoulders down his back, both Bokuto and Iwaizumi are perched on the couch in the most fake display of innocence Daichi's ever seen. He doesn't really look at them though, doesn't give them the satisfaction of knowing they've got his attention.

Out of the corner of his eye he notices how they both stiffen slightly, and the almost silent gasp one of them makes as he walks by without even a slight glance in their direction before he turns into the bedroom. Daichi hums to himself as he wanders the room drying off, trying to decide what to wear. It’s the middle of summer and hot, though, so he opts just for a pair of tight boxer briefs and a sleeveless shirt that’s just a touch too big for him.

This time when he emerges back out into the hall he looks toward the couch, where they are both still pretending to be casual, and just barely smiles. He makes his way to the kitchen, looking for a snack to refresh himself after expending so much energy in the shower, and remembers the half full box of popsicles in the freezer, perfect for a hot summer night like this one. He rummages in the box for a bright red cherry one before unwrapping it and making his way to the living room, where he gracefully drops down on the couch in between its two uncertain occupants.

The tv is on, sound almost muted, but none of them are paying attention to it anyway. Daichi is busy with his treat, and Bokuto is practically vibrating next to him, not quite close enough to touch while Iwaizumi on the other side pretends not to be staring at the side of Daichi’s face. He concentrates on the icy treat in his hand, but he knows he’s being watched, even as the popsicle starts to melt as he’s eating it. It drips and leaves a long line of red down a finger before he manages to lick it up, and by the time he’s got that, another one is making its way down the side of his hand.

He’s not particularly trying to be messy, but by the time most of the popsicle is gone, Daichi’s licked it more off of his hand than off the stick. He does manage to not drip it on himself or the couch other than that, although there was one stubborn trail that kept making it just to his wrist before he caught up with it. He can hear his boyfriends breathing beside him, pretending to be watching the tv or looking out of the window, uneven breaths that told Daichi that they were much more focused on the sugary trails and Daichi’s deft tongue.

By the time he’s reached the stick, the two beside him are hardly bothering to pry their eyes away from Daichi’s face, lingering on what he knows are his exceedingly red lips, which he runs his tongue along once before he gets up from the couch to throw out his garbage. Despite his sticky fingers, the stick still slips out of his grasp as he gets up, hitting the floor with hardly a sound. He bends over to pick it up and hides a smile at the slight gasp from the couch as his thighs tighten as he reaches down.

A frantic whisper just barely reaches his ears as he walks into the kitchen, and he can’t make out any words, but he knows that Iwaizumi responds to Bokuto in a low hiss. Daichi washes his hands in the sink and then meanders back through the living room to the bedroom, ignoring the curious and tentative eyes on his back as he goes. He tosses his shirt on the nearest chair and grabs his laptop so he can settle comfortably sprawled on the bed. There’s a tiny noise near the doorway, but Daichi doesn’t look over, and no one enters, so he just ignores it.

The morning dawns bright and hot, and Daichi finds himself still sprawled over the bed, alone just as he was when he entered the bedroom the night before. He figures that Iwaizumi must have decided to stray on the cautious side and leave Daichi alone until he decides to grace them with his - hopefully no longer angry - attention. Daichi flips over onto his back and glances at the door just in time to hear a loud snore and then a snuffling noise.

He stretches out, reaches a hand to grab at his phone on the nightstand and scrolls to his text messages. The person he wants is right at the top, the last person Daichi had messaged. He rolls his eyes at the stupid contact name that Bokuto insists on changing every so often.

To: Suga Cookie

hey...remember that craft project Hinata did at the end of our 3rd year? you still have those giant googly eyes we confiscated from him?

From: Suga Cookie

I think so. why?

To: Suga Cookie

reasons.

Incoming Call: Suga Cookie

Daichi sighs and flops over onto his stomach as he presses the accept call button. His greeting comes out mumbled due to the fact that he has his face smushed into the mattress, but he knows Suga understands him just fine anyway by the airy laugh that echoes into his ear.

“Daiiiiichiiiiii. For what ‘reasons’ do you need giant googly eyes? And at,” He can hear Suga pull his phone away from his face to check the time, “the wonderful hour of 8 am?”

He groans. He just knows that Suga is going to wheedle him until he gets the whole dreadful tale, and Daichi would really rather not relive what is possibly the most embarrassing moment of his entire life. He turns his face to the side so Suga can actually hear him. “Revenge?”

Suga hums thoughtfully. “Let me see what I can find.” Daichi is relieved for but a bare moment before he continues. “But don’t think you’re getting out of explaining properly, Sawamura Daichi.” He laughs again at the disheartened moan Daichi lets out, and then hangs up.

Daichi is doomed. Suga is going to sink his claws into this like a kitten with a catnip mouse, and he is not going to let go until Daichi’s in tatters on the floor in front of him. He buries his face in the blanket again, temporarily ignores the fact that soon he’ll be embarrassed to within an inch of his life, and focuses on what he’s actually going to do for this revenge scheme, provided Suga can come up with the googly eyes.

He has absolutely no doubt that Suga will come up with them, even if he has to go out to a craft store and buy them himself, because Daichi knows that he has hooked onto the fact that Daichi doesn’t want to explain and Suga will not provide him with a valid reason so he won’t have to. Suga is a crafty devil like that. Daichi is almost certainly going to regret this.

The next ten minutes are spent with Daichi staring off the side of the bed towards the other side of the room, vaguely noting the crumpled hat lying half under the dresser, and he figures that it’s about the time to clean the apartment again. It works well into his rapidly forming plan of payback, something to emphasize how googly eyes can make pretty much anything sexy turn possibly funny and a bit creepy, no matter the content of the sexiness.

His phone buzzes with an incoming message, which Daichi knows without even looking is Suga announcing his imminent arrival. He pads softly through the living room to the door, not bothering with any additional clothes since he’d just take them off again anyway, and holds a finger to his lips as he moves aside to let Suga enter. To Suga’s credit he only barely lifts an eyebrow before following Daichi back into the bedroom, glancing at the couch and it’s sleeping occupants as they go.

Once in the bedroom, however, door firmly closed, Suga’s face changes, the most devious grin alighting on his face as he holds up a tiny paper bag that rustles as he shakes it. The grin only gets sharper as Daichi swallows and prepares himself for what he knows is coming next.

Suga’s voice is poisonously sweet. “So, Daichi. What are ‘reasons’ precisely?”

Daichi sighs and goes to retrieve the offending hat from the floor. "Imagine having two very attractive guys pressed against you, giving you very nice attention in all the right places.” Suga wriggles his nose a little here, but Daichi valiantly ignores him. “One of them drops to the floor and you look down and see one of these," he brandishes the hat at Suga here, creepy googly eyes staring off in different directions, "staring up at you. Instant boner killer."

He gets about two seconds of silence before Suga lets out a giggle. “Bokuto, I’m guessing?”

"He was the one on his knees, yes. But Iwaizumi was wearing one of the dumb hats too and he helped Bokuto distract me enough to get this dumb thing on my head." Daichi scowls. Suga just laughs harder, practically red in the face, and Daichi throws the hat at him. Suga just gasps for breath as it lands at his feet and stares up at him. Daichi crosses his arms across his chest and shushes him. "Don't wake the assholes up. I need them asleep for my revenge."

Suga perks up at ‘revenge’, because Suga is the exact opposite of the angel everyone assumes he is and lives to bring mischief and mayhem to as many lives as possible. “And what sort of revenge are we talking about here?”

Daichi relays what he’s already thought of for his plan. “So I could use a little assistance, if you don’t mind.”

"Okay Daichi, I am not sure if I should feel honored or weirded out about essentially fondling your ass to apply giant googly eyes."

Daichi adopts a fake pout. "I thought you said I have a very nice ass?"

A sigh and mock serious tone colors Suga’s next words. "I mean you do have a nice ass but I feel like there really should be boundaries in friendships."

"You slapped my ass last week. In ‘friendship’. Or did you forget?"

"No, Daichi, I have not forgotten your ass. But there is a difference between slapping it and pressing googly eyes on it." Suga wiggles the bag in his hand again.

"You know...the fact that this conversation isn't even all that strange is probably a sign of some kind." Daichi scrunches his nose and muses that he’s been influenced terribly by the people in his life.

Suga waves his finger in a circle. “Alright, turn around, tiger.” He slides to his knees as Daichi faces his back to him, and Daichi wonders what anyone would think if they just happened to come in on this scene. It couldn’t possibly be good, not with Suga’s face practically a foot from Daichi’s ass. The googly eyes that Suga dumps out of the bag don’t make this any less weird. He can feel Suga’s scrutinizing gaze on his ass, trying to judge exactly the perfect placement for the self adhesive craft accessories.

After an excruciatingly long time Suga finally presses an eye to each cheek and then shuffles back just a few inches. Daichi looks over his shoulder at him. “You can stop staring at my ass now, you know.”

“No. No, I cannot. It is staring back.” Suga crosses his arms with a pout. “I’m not going to lose a staring contest to your ass, Daichi, no matter how nice it is.”

“I told you they stare into your soul. You laughed. Now you see.” Daichi stretches up onto his toes and back down again, shakes his hips a bit to make sure that they don’t fall off with movement. Suga stifles a laugh from behind him and then Daichi hears a very distinctive click. He whips his head back around to stare at Suga’s unapologetic face as he takes another picture.

“Well, you moved, so I guess I win!” Suga grins cheekily and stuffs his phone back in his pocket as Daichi turns around and tries in vain to snatch it out of his hand. Suga tuts and shakes a finger at him, even while he hops up and backward out of Daichi’s reach.

“Sugawara Koushi.”

“Sawamura Daichi.” Where Daichi sounds stern Suga just sounds amused.

“Suga. You delete those now.” Daichi tries his best to look menacing, but honestly, his captain’s stare never really had much of an effect on his second in command.

It proves true yet again as Suga just grins widely. “That’s my reward. For the daunting task of having to get so up close and personal with your ass. It’s such a bargain, don’t you think?”

Daichi huffs. He’s not going to win this one, either. Suga is merciless, and he knows he’s already won as he plops backward onto the bed. Daichi watches as Suga bounces softly a bit and smiles fondly up at him. He lets out a low sigh and feels a smile cross his face almost involuntarily at his best friend. “Thanks.”

Suga adopts a sing songy tone as he hops off the bed and pats Daichi’s cheek. “Of course, Dai-chan,” He ducks the hand Daichi swats at him and starts toward the door. “As long as I get full details of their reactions later on! Aside from when they decide to ravage you, I don’t need to know about that.” His nose wrinkles at the thought. “Good luck!”

He departs with a flounce and a wink, and Daichi stands in the hall and watches the front door click softly closed behind him. There’s still a rumbling coming from the living room, and Daichi smiles to himself as he puts the next step of the plan into motion.

Barely two minutes later finds Daichi in all his googly eyed butt glory, just a few feet in front of the couch, vacuum in hand. Iwaizumi lets out another low snore where he’s laying on the couch, head propped on a cushion with one arm dangling to the floor, and Bokuto, pressed half on top of him and half to the side, squished against the back of the couch, mumbles as if in response. 

Daichi thinks they look adorable for all of a minute or so, until he spots the terrible hats together in a heap just under the edge of the couch. Thankfully only one creepy eye is visible, and it’s staring further under the couch, where there’s probably candy wrappers and dust, possibly a missing puzzle piece, knowing Bokuto. It’s then that he’s just reminded yet again of what they pulled and how they still need to be paid back properly for it.

A mischievous smile and one touch of his foot later, the vacuum roars to life and the two bodies on the couch jerk violently before flailing and hitting the floor with a resounding thud. Two pairs of tired, betrayed eyes stare at him from the pile of tangled limbs on the floor, blinking in confusion. Daichi grins and turns around to actually start vacuuming. There’s a choked sound, like someone stubbed their toe or hit the edge of the doorframe, and then Daichi bends over to pick the cord of the vacuum up so he doesn’t run it over.

THAT gets an actual, honest to god groan out of one of them, and Daichi hums in victory. He continues humming gently as he turns, and only a minute later, the other two have disappeared, though Daichi can see at least one of them through the island window built into the wall between the kitchen and the living room, hovering near the coffeemaker, leaning their head on the counter. He can hardly hear a hushed conversation over the sound of the vacuum as he cleans.

"Is he still doing it?" Bokuto whines.

Iwaizumi, sounding tired, like he’s been asked too many questions. "Yes." 

"Is he pissed off at us?"

"Do you really have to ask?"

Daichi moves into the bedroom then, so any other conversation they might have is lost to the sound of the running vacuum. After he’s all done he wanders toward the kitchen in search of a drink and maybe some breakfast. Bokuto still has his head pillowed on his arms on top of the table, while Iwaizumi still lingers near the coffeepot, though this time he actually has a cup in his hand, ready to drink.

Bokuto is still whining into the tabletop when Daichi gets to the doorway, where he pauses for a minute. "No, Iwaizumi. Seriously. My boner says yes but the googly eyes are saying no. I'm conflicted."

Iwaizumi hums with a troubled look on his face.

“My boner, Iwa, my boner.”

At that Iwaizumi sighs heavily into his cup. “It’s your fault, you know.” He glances toward the table. “And now he’s mad at both of us.” One eyebrow raised in an accusing glare that Bokuto tilts his head to see before he smushes his face back into the table.

Daichi takes this opportunity to fully enter the kitchen, giving Iwaizumi a look that clearly asks if he’s learned his lesson. At first Iwaizumi just stares, and Daichi wonders if maybe he needs to add another step to his plan. Then Iwaizumi’s shoulders slump, and he glances back to his cup, swirling the drink inside, tips of his ears and the tops of his cheeks flushing red. Then he sits at the table next to Bokuto, who raises his head a little and stares dolefully at Daichi.

Bokuto has a very soulful stare, but Daichi isn’t going to let it go that easily. He huffs a breath out, shakes his head and turns away to start making his breakfast. And if he just happens to have to bend over to get the eggs out of the fridge, and then has to go back again for butter, well. He forgot, that’s all. It’s not on purpose that he needs the frying pan that they keep on the higher shelf of the cabinet, the one he really has to stretch all his muscles to get to, either. That’s just the best pan to use.

He can still feel the eyes jiggle as he settles back down on his heels, still resolutely sticking exactly where Suga pressed them. Bokuto lets out a tiny, almost silent whimper, and Daichi thinks that Bokuto is probably trying to decide whether or not the picture in front of him is actually sexy or just tinged with creepiness. The sigh Iwaizumi lets out sounds like he, at least, is leaning toward the latter, which means Daichi’s lesson isn’t entirely wasted.

The sound of sizzling is only broken up occasionally by a sigh from the table, and Daichi decides that he’s not so mad as to leave these two here with nothing to eat, which means another trip or two back around the kitchen gathering a few extra necessities needed to make and serve a bit more food. If that means more stretching out his legs and arms to reach plates, and bending over to get stuff out of the fridge, well. He can’t let them starve, can he?

It doesn’t take long for him to finish cooking, but he manages to finish his own portion before the other two are ready to be served anyway. He makes himself a cup of coffee and serves the remaining food onto plates before he slides them across the table to rest in front of his two boyfriends with a stern face. They both look up at him with a mix of shame and thankfulness in their eyes.

“Eat. I’m leaving now to see Suga. Be back later.” Then he scoops up his cup and pads quietly out of the kitchen to the bedroom. Between his coffee and messaging Suga about hanging out, Daichi manages to change and get dressed, thankfully finally abandoning the googly eyes, still attached to his underwear, on the floor of the bedroom. The only thing to be heard as he leaves the apartment is the clicking of silverware against plates, and he’s glad they are at least eating the food he made.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come yell at me on [tumblr](http://heyyyfuturefish.tumblr.com/).


End file.
